SECOND-HAND.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVI, Issue 11010, 14 March 1899, Page 3

SECOND-HAND.

. ♦—-— I dad no idea thai John oared any more lor Dorothea than ho had cared for lots of other girls until ho liegan to find qualities in tier--beautiful qualities of course—that no one else had ever noticed, lint aftei that I was not surprised when lie told mo he wan engaged to her. 1 was. very nice about it; 1 have always Slid that she was pretty and had pleasant manners, but I warned him from tlio first that ho had a wrong impression of her. Of course he didn't believe me. .Men are always sure that they understand women belter than other women especially if those other ones are his sisters. It's very absurd, but it's no use reasoning with a man, so 1 hardly contradicted John when he talked nonsense about Dorothea until lie said he admired her for her perfect imaffei'tedness and frankness. "She's such a child of nature," he said. "She's so o|kmi and impulsive." I could not stand that. "My dear boy," said 1, "that's not nature; it's the kind of art that fries to conceal art." " You don't understand her," ho answered, in a superior way. "\\ omen are never good judged of character. You are prejudiced against her because she is unconventional anil unlike all the other girls you know." I told him I wasn't in the least, prejudiced against her, and it was foolish to suppj.-e that I should be- against a friend 01 my own, 'He sides," said I, "I've never noticed she is anconventional, and if she is, so is everyone nowadays, so there's nothing woudorltil in that." He slid ii was hopeless to argue with a v 0man, and I was wandering from the [joint. "Tin- point is," I remarked, "that you -ay Dorothea is fresh, and natural, and impulsive, and all that, and you're annoyed buaieo 1 don'i agree with you." "I'm not at ail annoyed; I'm only sorry that a sister of mine can be so blind !o .Hither girl's (rood qualities." I'm very fond of John, so 1 admitted mat perhaps he did understand hei belter than I did. and then I said,"(lf course, as she's so frank and open die. litis told you all about Frank Thompson?" "Yes, she has." he replied, and he smiled at me in an irritating way, its though he expected me to be crushed. 1 was rather surprised to hear she had told him, but then she knew that I should; it would not have been fair to him if I hud not: hut still, it was rather clever of hei. 1 just said, carelessly, " Well, 1 hope your engsgemom will he luckier than his. 1 always wondered why it was broken off. Did she 101 l you'' Whose doing was it really—his or hers?" "There was no actual engagement at all," said John coldly. "It was- a mere boy and girl affair; lie was very much attached to her, but she never cared for him. lie bowl her." " I should never have gucs-vd that from the way .-he used to talk about him, but she must know best," 1 remarked. "And, anyhow, lie's well out of your, way on the China Station or somewhere, and I suppose an impulsive child of nature soon forgets trifles of that sort." John hoped 1 was not going to make myself tii.pleasa:i; lo his future wife, because she was so looking lorward to being my sister, and she was so sen-itive and easily hurl. 1 reminded him that she had enjoyed the privilege of being my friend months before she thought of being my sister, and I had no intention of being unpleasant to anyone, but I had got on very comfortably without a sister for several ye,,-,', and 1 couldn't be expected to go into raptures over any lull-grown one who was siddenly thrown at my head. Real sisters are sometimes an acquired laste, anil one can't promise to lake to one's family bosom any specimen that a brothrr may choose lo fall in love with. Hut I said I would he very careful of her sensitive lec'ings, because, a- 'l .-aid More, I'm fond of John, and of Dorothea 100, though 1 110 thick it's not ,|iii|o nice of a friend to get engaged to one's brother; it seems a little mean, and what one doe.-n't expect. However, I didn't say anything like that to Dorothea ; il would not have done any good, ami I listened very pleasantly when she said rather fillv things about .loon, ami when ne said far sillier ones about her. One evening he crime in wearing an enormous gold ,-nake ring, and, as he hales rings, 1 knew Dorothea must have given il In him. I said 1 supposed it was 11 present from her. "Doesn't sin' know vou hate rings?" 1 seid. _" I don't hate them," he answered. Isn't it« jolly one?" And he look il "If for nm to admire. I said it was very large and impressive. "Yes," he said, "I'm afraid it must have oust the dear little girl a lot: she's so awfully generous." I noticed that one of the snake's ruby eyes was missing, and J suggested she had got it second-hand. "Second-hand! What nonsense you talk. Tiny I It's unkind nonsense, 100. If you dislike Dorothea, say so, hut don't go about hinting al things like that. You know as well as 1 do that, she would never dream of giving me a second-hand tiling." " My dear boy," said I, " why gel so angry? You seemed to be grieving at the expense You had caused her. 1 saw a stone was missing, and I think it was very considerate of me lo tuggest thai, it was second-hand." "But it isn't; she let the thing drop, and the stone must have been loose and fell mil. She's going lo have another put in." "Oh. well. I shouldn't have blamed her if ihe had bought it as a bargain. Il would only have shown what an economical manager she Would have made." But he still seemed upset, to I promised to go and have tea with her in a day or two and assure her of my sisterly devotion. Two or three days after 1 went. 1 was rather late, and I found John had just got there, but she pressed me to stay, and he pretended not to mind if I did, so I stayed. Conversation is never very easy when there's an unwanted third person in the room, and John didn't say much, though lie was unnaturally polite to in-, but as Dorothea has brothers of her own she was probably not much impress.".! by his efforts. If struck me she found him a tot heavy; .-lie's not particularly intelligent, and she knew John thought she was, and it is a strain to have to live up to someone's idea! of you. I'm sure she found me a relief, but of course I wasn't going to stay long. John was fidgeting with his ring, so I said something nice about it to her. " It's awfully handsome," I said; "John's been puffed up with pride ever since you gave it to him. but it's a pity one of the stones is missing." "I'm going to have it put in when Jack tan spare it," she said. " I shall never he able to do that, darling,' he answered. I got up to go. I don't like to heat a brother make 0 fool of himself. "What has he given you in exchange, Dolly?" said I. " A lovely photograph of himself ;" and she pointed to one on a cabinet. Oh, that's where Frank Thompson's used to be, isn't it?" I asked thoughtlessly. , She looked annoyed, and said hastily, " No, " was never there," as though that particular •pot had been kept vacant and sacred until John appeared. I wasn't going to be put aside like that. "I •'ways thought I'd seen it there," I said. " Where is it? By the way, I saw in to-days Paper that his ship is coming back. Ah, here's ™ photo:" I had caught sight of it in a distant comer, and I went to look at it. . Afterwards, when Dorothea's sister' heard what had happened, she said I meant to make mischief all along, hut that was untrue, it was Pure chance, though I admit that I wanted to show Dorothea that I had not forgotten things, and that I wasn't so silly about bet as vohn was. ' "You've put it in the dark, Dolly," I ox- : Maimed. She didn't say anything, but John said, It's getting ratSier late, Tiny, and you ought ■"' to be Into home with your cold." I thanked him for being so careful of my lealtl,, but ] said I did not know I had a •old. They were both standing up, waiting tor me to go, but I picked up the photograph «d carried it nearer the light, for no reason e«*pt just to show that I wasn't going to be flurried away. "He's very good-looking, isn't he?" I said. " 1 don't wondei you ad""fed him, Dorothea. Iw't it a fin» **»- John!"

John didn't say anything definite, but Dorothea came and looked over my shoulder, as ; though she couldn't help herself. " It was taken years ago," she said. " ' 1 merely pointed to the date he had put ' under his signature, it was not a year old. It . was a large and very good picture, and as I , lingered over it I suddenly noticed that there was a snake ring on one of the hands, whioli ' was unnecessarily prominent; a ring that ) seemed familiar. 1 _ " Why, how funny!" I cried, " He's wearI, ing a ring just like yours, John!" _ "Why shouldn't 'he';" said John. " Mine .' isn I the only one in the world." "No, of course- it isn't; I hadn't noticed i they were alike," said Dorothea sharply. " Let , mo put it down for you, Tiny," and she . wanted to take the photo from me. j I'm not suspicious, but I wondered why she 1 , seemed so anxious to lake the thing away, and 1 examined it more closolv. Then I found the reason. Frank's ring had lost a stone, too. „ " This is l "° odd ! " I said, turning to them; 'Frank Thompson's ring had lost a stone out of one of the eyes. Then it is just like yours, John!" " It's the other eye," said Dorothea, at once. 'No, it's the same; and 1 thought jou hadn't, noticed the ring, Dolly?" 1 remarked. " I—remember now," bo stammered. "What are you driving at, Tiny:" asked John, sternly. " Nothing. How upset you both look ! 1 only pointed out the curious fact that you anil Mr. Thompson have rings exactly alike I wonder who gave him this. Do you know, Dolly? Me used to tell you everything." I looked straight at her; so did John. 1 was really quite sorry for her, she looked so uncomfortable; but for John's sake I had to be firm. " What a fuss you're making about nothing, Tiny!" she said peevishly. "What does it matter who gave it. to him? I hate bothering about trifles, don't you, Jack?" ' " I'm interested in this one," ho said. ] "Well, I'm not, Tiny can hint what she likes about Frank's ring and yours—" ' "I ouiy thought the ring might go with ! your engagement*," said I. ' ' " Docs it?" asked John. i I raino away then, because I hate rows, i and I saw John was not going to stand any j nonsense ; but 1 wailed downstairs, and when I heard him slam the door behind him, I , went to see how Dorothea was bearing up. , She was looking regretfully at the ring. " He's given it you bad;, then?" said 1. " Yes, it's all over. I told him ho ought '' to lie glad I wasn't extravagant, and il was ' horrid of him only to value a thing because ' he thought it was new, but it was no use. It ' would have been so silly lo get another ring ' when I had this one, don't you think so?" ( " I'm not a man." ; "They're awfully unreasonable,' she i sighed. " You see," said I, "the poor boy had got . it into his head that you were an open-hearted . child of nature, and that sort of idea docn't v harmonise with a reversionary interest in an ! engagement ring." "Well, I always felt he didn't understand [ me." she said, thoughtfully; "but 1 was ' redly quite fond of him till ho was so silly. s 1 know you're delighted it's off," she added. I said 1 didn't think John would have made j her happy, and she ought to be grateful to me. a .She was silent a moment; then she said, v " By the bye. Tiny, didn't you say Frank was coming home?" " Yes: you had better have the stone put „ ill, hadn't you?" " Perhaps I had," she answered. , —Westminster Budget. ,